Thanks, Weasley
by wittyllama
Summary: Draco Malfoy. He is a lonely boy with a terrible home life, and no friends. Nobody cares about him. Can that ever change? Or is he destined to live a life alone and in agony?


**Prologue**

Draco tasted warm, salty tears mixed with a sort of coppery metal tang that he had grown oh-so familiar to over the past few years. Before, when he had misbehaved, his father would simply hide him, leaving his bottom raw for weeks, and his attitude sour for days. Nowadays, Lucius had taken to directly hitting his son in the face, the stomach, and pretty much anywhere. He had scars and bruises decorating his entire frame. But Lucius was careful not to do anything more but slap when it came to the face. He didn't want anybody to suspect what he was doing. Both of them knew it was wrong. Lucius didn't care, Draco was too scared to say anything, same as Draco's mum. Well, at least when she was conscious or clearheaded. That was something that she had denied for a while now, not being abstemious. At least it kept her husband away. It disgusted him. Everything disgusted him. Especially Draco. In Lucius' eyes, Draco might as well have been a mudblood for all he cared.

 **Chapter one: Welcome Back**

Classes were back in at Hogwarts, and most kids were groaning about not wanting to do homework, or to go back to school. Draco was only thankful. It was his only chance to get away from home. A few months once a year that he got some freedom and time to heal, both emotionally and physically.

The train pulled to a stop at the station, and the crowds of people rushed out, eager to meet each other after being separated from their friends for so long. Everybody was pulled out with the wave whether you wanted to be or not, and if you didn't have friends waiting for you, you were left on the streets to make the journey up to Hogwarts alone. It was actually quite depressing.

Draco Malfoy was one of the people that rarely had anybody waiting for him at the station, but he had grown fond of the formerly lonely, now peaceful, walks in which he could just enjoy the crisp, cool autumn breeze blow across his pale cheeks, which were flushed with color in the colder weather.

He had stopped envying those who had people who cared. Others from their houses, or even from other houses, who they were looking forward to seeing. He still felt the same as he always did. A mixture of self-loathing, numbness, and abandonment. Now as he stepped off of the train, he looked around at the happy friends reuniting for the first time in a long time, and a small smile quirked at the edge of his lips.

His reverie was interrupted by somebody shoving past him, and causing him to drop most of his bags. He quickly gathered them and looked up to see… Ronald Weasley. Of course. But that wasn't the part that made the inside of Malfoy flame up in annoyance, it was the fact that the ginger idiot was laughing about it.

"What's your problem?" Draco hissed, his voice coming out rough and low. Ron simply shook his head and looked behind the blonde Slytherin. Turning, Draco discovered why. Approaching them was a frizzy haired brunette girl, and a boy only slightly taller than her and with dark hair, falling over his forehead and sweeping his glasses. Draco grimaced and started to walk away, but stopped at the call of his name.

"Malfoy!" It was Harry. Draco spun slowly on his heel, waiting for the taunting, and yet it never came. He looked at the scrawny boy, and saw him holding a blue book. _Nope._ Draco's hand shot out and he grabbed it quickly. _Nobody_ could see that. "You… dropped it." The Gryffindor said, his face a mixture of confusion and annoyance. Draco looked at the other two, searching their faces. It was easy. All three of them had their hearts on their sleeve for the whole world to see. It filled Draco with rage, but also brought down his spirits even more. But his face didn't change one sliver. He wore the same emotionless mask he always did.

Draco nodded curtly at the three of them. "Potter. Granger. Weasley." Before any of them had a chance to reply, Draco turned around and hurried up the hill to the gates into Hogwarts. Two people came up on the side of him. _So much for peaceful solitude._

"Welcome back, Malfoy. We missed your devious plots." Crabbe's gruff voice called, a little too loudly. Draco flinched away, and nearly knocking over Goyle. "Oi, what's your problem?"

"Nothing. Just a little tired from the train ride." Draco snapped, putting on a fake sneer. The rest of the walk was filled with Crabbe and Goyle discussing their summers, and who had pulled the best pranks. They were both dimwits, and Draco had half a mind to tell them so, right as they entered the castle. The two shut up, and started sending nasty looks at the first years. Soon, the sorting had been over and done, Draco staring at the table the whole time and carving a large X into the center of an apple with his long fingernail. He had lots of apple fibers stuck under his nails afterwards, but it didn't faze him in the slightest. The rest of the feast moved quickly, as Draco piled heaps of food onto his plate, but ate none of it, sliding it over to either Crabbe or Goyle. It's not like he payed attention to which of the buffoons was which.

Draco remained silent all the way to the Slytherin common room, in which he retired almost immediately, with an excuse that he had a terrible headache, and simply needed to sleep it off.

 **Chapter two: Percy and the shoes**

The night was another fitful one, as were nearly all of his. He fell asleep almost immediately, and had no dreams. For about an hour, at least. And then came the night terrors. They were filled with death, and destruction, and horror. All that draco could do was watch, his father's ever watchful eye trained on him. The dream ended with his mother pointing a wand at his chest, and shouting in a distorted voice, " _Avada Kedavra!"_

Draco woke up with a cry and sat bolt upright, sweat plastering his body. He sat there for a moment, the sweat turning hard on his skin and his breathing slowly decreasing. A bird chirped from the window, and Draco noticed the sunlight filtering in. He looked over to the other bed to see that it was occupied by a first year, small and dark haired. Surprisingly, the boy wasn't woke. With a sigh of relief, Draco swung his pale legs over the side of his bed, and reached underneath for his suitcase. After retrieving a fresh pair of clothes and a towel, Draco crept his way downstairs and out of the picture frame that hung lamely in front of the hole, shutting it silently behind him. He tiptoed all the way to the boy's lavatory, passing Peeves - who shockingly remained silent - on his way. The stalls were all empty, and only one shower was occupied, judging by the robes outside of the curtain it was somebody from Gryffindor. And by the prefect badge pinned onto them, probably Percy Weasley. Draco frowned. All of the Weasley's were the same. They had no class, and they thought that they were better than everyone, though they were nowhere near half of the school. Secretly, Draco had taken a liking to Fred and George, who actually had a sense of humor, but he knew that Gryffindors didn't exactly become friends with Slytherins. And that was that.

He slipped noiselessly into a shower, two to the left of Percy, and dropped his robes on the ground outside the curtain. The shower felt refreshing, and woke him up completely, since he had the water on completely cold, as he tended to. It was better for the senses, made him sharper at the moments when he would need it most. Ms. Melinda's Every Scent Shampoo, Conditioner, and Body Wash was provided in little floating bottles, that only allowed a certain amount out per person and automatically refilled. Before long, Draco was done, and had pulled his towel behind the curtain to dry his body, softly rubbing his scars and bruises, so as not to irritate or open them. Percy's shower was still running, and Draco could hear the Weasley humming a spritely tune that set his hair on end. His robes slipped on easily, and he stepped, barefoot, out of the shower, tugging his socks onto his still wet feet, and then his boots that were two sizes too small. His father never bothered to buy Draco new ones, and wouldn't let him go shopping all by himself. Draco wasn't really sure what his father was so scared of him buying. Muggle artifacts? What use did he have of those, when he had magic that did the job just as efficiently, if not better?

Draco was just thinking about asking Professor Snape if he knew any expanding spells, and trying in vain to pull on his other shoe, old blisters being opened and throbbing as he did so, when Percy stepped out of his shower, fully dressed but with his ginger hair flying everywhere.

"Havin' a bit of trouble there, mate?" The older boy called, ruffling his hair through the towel and walking towards Draco, who stood up suddenly, causing the shoe to fly off. He sighed,

"No, I'm just fine, Weasley. What's it to you?"

"Just wondering." Percy bent over and picked up the abandoned shoe, as Draco watched on, his face steeled. The ginger glanced up skeptically. "You must have remarkably small feet, Malfoy. Unless… These are too small?" He said, adding an overly innocent tone to his voice.

"Of course not." Draco snatched his shoe back and held it at his side. "They fit me just fine."

A disbelieving eyebrow raised and Percy hummed in incredulity. "I was just asking, because, as you know, my family has shoe problems surprisingly often, and I know this handy spell that my mum uses on all of them to keep them together and to conform them to the exact size of our feet." He shrugged and bounced on his toes. "But.. If you don't need it, then…" He started to slowly turn around and take overly dramatic steps to the doorway.

Draco panicked. He had never asked for help from a prefect before, let alone a Gryffindor, but this could be his only chance. He let out a little sigh of defeat. "Wait." He called, tugging his other shoe off forcefully, with a wince. Percy hurried back with a large smile on his face, and pulled his wand out. "Tell no one." Draco affirmed, gaining a nod from Percy, just before he put some sort of charm on them.

"Try 'em on."

So he did. And they fit. They cushioned where they needed to, especially on his blistered areas. Draco looked up at Percy in surprise and gratitude, before steeling his face once more, making Percy smirk slightly.

"Thanks, Weasley." Draco muttered, before walking quickly past Percy, his shoes moving comfortably with him.

 **Chapter three: The quidditch match**

Since Malfoy had become the new Slytherin seeker last year, Snape and McGonnagal had been fighting over who got the Quidditch field on what days, but that all came to an end. Dumbledore had them doing what he called "joint practices". It was supposed to be even more challenging, since it would be played like an actual Quidditch match, without keeping track of the score. The slytherins were meeting on the far end of the field, and everybody was bombarding Draco with instructions, all of which he absorbed and nodded to, trying to see how 'duck and dive' could mix with 'shoot up as fast as possible'. His team members were interrupted by Oliver Wood, who cleared his throat loudly, causing all of them to turn and look, except for Draco who they had all been previously facing, he just had too look up slightly.

"Are you almost ready? We're waiting back there." Wood kept eye contact with the Slytherin captain as he jerked his chin towards the other side of the field.

"Yeah, of course we are." The Slytherin captain retorted, eyeing Draco. Wood nodded and made his way back over to the Gryffindors as the Slytherins kicked up into the air, Draco in the back. He flew up and into the center of the field where he was soon joined by Harry, yet Draco didn't as much as glance at the boy next to him. He was too busy scanning the field for the snitch. He thought he saw it a few times, but upon closer examination, it turned out just to be one of the Weasley twin's watch.. He was pretty sure it was George. And then there it was. In the middle of the field. He glanced over to Harry, to see the scarred boy investigating a scratch on his broom. Draco dodged a bludger and sped to where he saw the snitch. It zigged downwards and forward, and Draco followed in suit, his quidditch robes whipping silently behind him. His hand was inches away from the snitch.

BAM.

Draco was sent into a sideways spiral as a bludger had hit him directly in the gut with a sickening crunch. He was holding onto his broom with only one hand, dangling helplessly. Looking around, he noticed that his team members had saw this, but were too busy trying to get the quaffle away from their goal and towards Gryffindors. The beaters had merely glanced his way and then continued chasing another bludger.

He looked down to see how far he was from the ground, and felt his stomach fall and his palms grow sweaty. There was was good 450 or so feet between him and the ground. If he fell, he would surely die, but his teammates kept with their job. Draco considered just letting go, not because he wanted to die, but because it seemed like there was no hope of getting back onto his broom and if he did fall, maybe _then_ his teammates might get over there and help him. But he knew how these people were. Even in practice, winning was more important to them than anything. Draco looked calmly backup to his broom, of which he was holding on to now with just the tips of his fingers. His breathing rate increased but he kept a calm face. If he fell, _somebody_ would have to catch him… right?

And he fell.

He didn't cry out.

He just waited.

Maybe for somebody else to yell out.

Maybe for him to hit the ground.

But none of it came.

Instead, he heard a loud _whoosh_ and felt a thin broomstick slide under him, with yet another crunch. He knew he had probably fractured a rib or two, but it was better than being splattered on the quidditch field. Draco lay doubled over on the broom stick, catching the breath that had seemed to been stolen from his lungs. The broom landed swiftly onto the ground, and draco rolled off, on all fours, dry heaving over the grass. His body convulsed and his ribs ached terribly. The blades of grass he was focused on twisted and turned in unnatural ways. A small amount of bile dribbled out of the corner of his mouth and he rolled onto his side, scrunching his eyes shut and curling into a fetal position.

 **Chapter four: saviors and feasts**

Draco's eyes fluttered open, and he heard voices next to him.

"It's a miracle you got to him when you did. If you had been a second later, he would have been troll jelly!" Exclaimed a low voice.

"That sounds awesome." Whispered another voice. It sounded almost exactly like the first voice, except this one was about a quarter of a note lower, nearly undetectable. Draco decided that these were the Weasley twins.

"Well, it's not like anybody else was going for him. I'm pretty sure his team would have just let him fall, and then he _would_ be troll jelly." This voice was definitely female, but it had nearly the same accent to it, that Draco recognized as the Weasley's. Was that… was it Ginny? Was that her name? Draco sat up, feeling refreshed and rejuvenated. His vision focused and he looked on to see that he had been right about who was there.

"Oi! He's woken up! Take it easy there, Draco." Fred soothed.

Draco could tell which twin was which. He was never definitely sure before, but now it seemed so dreadfully obvious, he felt the urge to punch himself in the face for being so oblivious.

"W-what happened?" asked Draco, his tone wary and unsure. The twins looked at Ginny with small smiles.

This time it was George who spoke, "You were saved by our little sister here. Just in the nick of time too. You were about to be -"

"Troll jelly. Yeah, I heard that." He glanced uneasily at Ginny. "Why, though?"

"You would have died."

"So? What would you care?"

Ginny was exasperated. "I don't know. Maybe I didn't want you to die? Because you.. I dunno… you deserve better?"

Draco had nothing to say in response to that except a small grunt as he flung his legs over the side of the mattress and started to walk off towards the doors.

"Madame Pomfrey said you had to stay here until you were fully healed! She said that you had more bruises than should have been inflicted by that hubub! Draco!" George called. Draco waved him off and placed his hand on the door handle but paused and turned his head slightly.

"Thanks, Weasley." He called, before opening the door a crack and slipping through, giving Ginny no time to respond. Deciding that he didn't _hate_ Ginny or Percy anymore, as he did Ron, Draco rushed towards that main hall, where everybody was sure to be at this time with only a slight pain still ebbing in his abdominals, but it wasn't anything he wasn't used to. In fact the only reason why he must've passed out and vomited as he did was all of the spinning. Otherwise he would have been able to handle the rest.

He slipped silently into the Main Hall where dinner was going on, and it seemed surprisingly quiet for a Hogwarts dinner. Sliding onto the end of the table, he noticed a few people from the Gryffindor table glancing at him and whispering. He looked to the side of him, only to see and hear the Slytherins acting extremely innocent and quiet. Draco sighed, and looked out to the rest of the tables, only to see the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs acting oddly as well, all seemingly either looking at him directly in the eyes apologetically, or avoiding his gaze. He sighed and pulled a plate in front of him, slopping on some mashed potatoes and ham. It made a squelching noise that seemed to echo through the hall. Wincing, he glanced up to where the professors were sitting with their meals.

Professor McGonagall was chewing slowly on something and sending a 'shut up' glare at the students, which they ignored. Snape wasn't even eating. He simply had a disgusted look on his face as he peered down fiercely at the Slytherins. Dumbledore looked as if he couldn't decide whether he should be amused, annoyed, disappointed, or angry. But conflicting emotions wasn't a new trait for the headmaster, as any student or professor would gladly tell you. Madame Hooch and Professor Sprout were chattering very intensely about something that Draco couldn't make out. Professor Trelawney seemed to be fascinated by a piece of ham that was sliding it's merry way to the edge of the table.

It was a rather hilarious sight from Draco's point of view, and he couldn't help but laugh a little, drawing even more attention to himself. The surprised faces were just too much. It took all of his willpower not to break down into hysterics right there and then. But that would make him look insane, which at this point he wasn't sure that he wasn't.

"Malfoy's gone mad." He heard Ron whisper as Draco's eyes glanced over him, Harry, and Hermione, who all (except ron) looked as if they were about to laugh as well. Draco caught Harry's eye, and Harry nodded, his lower lip quivering through the smile.

At least somebody finds this as funny as I do.

"Is it true?" a little voice next to him whispered. Draco turned to face it and saw the boy from his dormitory looking up at him, "Is it true that you almost died? Because nobody cared to catch you except for a Gryffindor girl?


End file.
